


What Comes After

by krysnel_nicavis



Series: The Writer's Un-Block Fic Collection [14]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Abortion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt, M/M, Magical Pregnancy, Mpreg, Post-Abortion, Post-Break Up, Pregnancy, Pregnant Harry Potter, References to Depression, References to Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:34:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24841627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krysnel_nicavis/pseuds/krysnel_nicavis
Summary: He hadn’t known it was evenpossible.Being muggle raised, how could he?His wizard raised lover felt differently.In the end, Harry has to make a hard decision, because sometimes you just have to make the hard decision. But, once he does, what could possibly come after?Wasthere an after?
Relationships: (Past) Harry Potter/Charlie Weasley, Marcus Flint/Harry Potter
Series: The Writer's Un-Block Fic Collection [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/566956
Comments: 15
Kudos: 438





	What Comes After

He didn’t even look at where he was going, he just stumbled out and ran. Hot tears streaming down his face obscured by the cold rain that poured down around him. It seeped into his clothes, his hair, pelting down onto the concrete under his shoes. His mind was reeling with the memory of their last… _discussion._

He knew it would be their last. There was no going back after this.

He hadn’t even known it was _possible._ How could he? He’d been raised muggle. And Hogwarts didn’t have a Sex Ed class. Sure, you could have a private consult with your Head of House or the school nurse if you had questions, but, again, he was raised _muggle._ He wouldn’t have known to even _ask._ Now, his lover was accusing him of doing this on purpose. Of _betraying_ him by purposely not taking precautions.

Hermione had understood completely. He’d confided in her before anyone else when he’d found out that his weird stomach bug wasn’t just a bug. If anything, she’d looked disappointed in herself. For allowing herself to forget that he would need a head’s up at the possibility. That he would need the requirement for precautions explained to him. After telling him everything was going to be okay, she’d sat him down and given him the talk _someone_ should have given him years ago.

Male wizards were perfectly capable of conceiving a child with other male wizards, and carrying a pregnancy to term, provided one very specific condition was met: the wizard and his male lover, in the moment, needed to mutually feel a true, abiding love for one another. Their magic, in that moment, would react and combine, creating a safe environment inside the “receiving” wizard for the conceived embryo to grow and, as the time of birth drew nearer, magic would alter the pregnant wizard’s body to allow the child to be born naturally. (While occurring less frequently, this magic-induced conception could occur between two witches.)

Harry, after letting it all sink in, felt an overwhelming joy overcome him. He and the man he loved, with all his heart, had loved each other enough that they’d managed to create a child out of that love. They were going to be parents. In just under seven months, they’d have a little person, made entirely of a blend of them, to love and cherish.

Charlie hadn’t agreed.

He’d refused to believe that Harry couldn’t have known that, once they’d stopped using condoms, there was a chance of getting pregnant without the use of preventative charms and potions. Then, he’d accused Harry of toying with his emotions, saying that the _real_ reason Harry hadn’t tried to prevent it was because he hadn’t loved Charlie to begin with. That feeling anything for him, in that one moment, had been an accident on Harry’s part. The last thing the older man had shouted at him, before Harry had run from their shared apartment in Wizarding London, was for Harry to “get rid of it. It was created out of lies, after all.”

Harry stopped running, bent over with his hands braced on his knees and gasping for air. There was a horrible stitch in his side and his exposed skin was numb with cold. He looked around, finding himself standing in a nondescript park somewhere in Muggle London. He stiffly continued, walking this time, just as aimlessly as he had been before. This time, however, he kept glancing around. He could neither apparate nor call the Knight Bus. With the heated argument, he’d forgotten his wand at the apartment. By the time he’d spotted the insignia, indicating an entrance point to Wizarding London, in the window of a pub similar to the Leaky Cauldron – called The Green Man – he was so cold that his joints were aching.

“Bloody hell, mate, you look like shite,” the man behind the counter of the empty pub said as soon as he’d stepped inside.

“Thanks,” Harry croaked.

“You look like you could use a shower and a place to sleep.” The man grabbed a key from a wall of hooks behind him before coming around the counter. “Four’s free.” He held out the key.

Shivering and dripping all over the floor, Harry looked at the key. “I, er, don’t have any money on me.”

“Don’t worry, Potter. I own this place and I know you’re good for it.” That’s when Harry realized he knew the man. They’d been at Hogwarts together. Different houses, different years, but he’d seen the guy around. He’d been a decent quidditch player.

“Thanks.” He took the key and headed towards the stairs to man had gestured to.

“I’ll have some food sent up.”

Harry turned back. “Any chance you got something dry I could borrow?”

The man nodded. “I’ll have something sent up with the food.”

* * *

There’d been some tension between Harry and the Weasleys when, instead of getting back together with Ginny, Harry’d started a relationship with Charlie. Some of that tension had eased when it became apparent their relationship was serious. After three years, the only tension remaining was between he and Ginny. After he and Charlie broke up that tension returned, much worse this time.

It was really only Ron, Hermione, and George who’d never treated him any different, after…

Hermione and Ron had insisted on accompanying him to his appointment at St Mungo’s. Ron had held his hand while Hermione had waited in the hallway. Being pregnant herself, it wasn’t good for her to be in the room when the aborting spell was cast. They’d also insisted he stay with them for the week he had to take the required round of after procedure potions, the ones that would allow his body to absorb the cells that had been growing since his body had no other means to expel them.

He stayed longer than a week. George visited often and the three took turns holding him while he mourned.

* * *

Harry was startled.

Not because someone had said his name. Nearly everyone still knew who he was and what he looked like. The startling part was that he hadn’t recognized the voice as soon as he’d heard it. For years, he’d had _that_ voice replaying over and over in his head. The painful memory of that voice, the betrayal and anger that had laced it as it hurled horrible accusations at him. The even more painful memories of that same voice filled with love and admiration. All the days he couldn’t get out of bed from the memories. The counselling Hermione had talked him into to help him come to terms with everything he’d lost.

It was startling to realize that, nine years after he lost it all, he could no longer actually recognize the voice of the man he’d once loved so fiercely he’d managed to get pregnant.

“Charlie,” he greeted cautiously, the hand not carrying a book coming up to rest protectively on his only just obviously rounded stomach. Charlie’s gaze lowered at the movement, his posture tightening. Harry cleared his throat. “It’s been a while.”

“It’s certainly has.” Harry thought he sounded bitter. Before he could even begin to contemplate why, they were interrupted.

“Harry, love, you ready to go?”

They both turned to see a tall, muscular man with short black hair and steel grey eyes. Anyone who followed quidditch easily recognized the recently retired chaser for the Ballycastle Bats.

 _“Marcus Flint?”_ Charlie sounded shocked now.

Marcus turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow as he adjusted his hold on the toddler sleeping on his shoulder. He turned back to Harry. “Hermione will be wondering where we are if we don’t head back soon.”

Harry lifted the book in his hand. “Found it.” He spared a glance at Charlie before following Marcus to the front counter. He rubbed his belly where their second child was turning as they left Flourish and Blotts. He considered his brief encounter with his former lover. As startling as it was to realize he no longer readily remembered everything about Charlie Weasley, it was equally freeing to realize the memories no longer hurt as sharply as they once did.

He’d always ache for the child he’d never had, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret the decision he’d made back then. If Charlie had regrets… well, he’d made decisions of his own.

-30-


End file.
